


Awake in a Place We Can Barely Recognize

by runicmagitek



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Extended Scene, F/F, Horror Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Mentor/Protégé, Mid-Canon, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Needles and Injections, Nightmares, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: Helvetica didn't ask to be a Hunter, though she has no choice but to do so in order to survive. And after spending most of her life trying to survive, someone finally swoops in to save her.





	Awake in a Place We Can Barely Recognize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [13lackbirds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/13lackbirds/gifts).



She never remembered the sun setting. The moon loomed above, glowing as radiant as the dusk’s light. It felt as if the sun had been setting for months, if not years. She didn’t know anymore. Every time she woke up, either from a seemingly restful slumber or from another brush with death, her eyes went to the heavens. Nothing changed. Not the people, not Yharnam, and most definitely not the sky.

Now it did and Helvetica couldn’t comprehend if she was truly going mad or something had changed in this strange land she was trapped in.

All signs pointed to the path hidden deep beneath the city. Perhaps there would be more people to find and rescue, point them back in the direction of the Cathedral Ward. Why was she saving them again? What difference did it make; all of them were trapped together. But only Helvetica bore the weight of being a Hunter all on her own, whether she wanted to or not.

Instead, Helvetica wandered through the dark stairs of the Cathedral Ward, back when she first discovered it, and stood before the Tomb of Oedon. There, the moonlight bathed the graveyard and her body. She lowered the dirtied cloth mask to her chin and flitted purple eyes about the horizon. The scent of decay and something foul she never came to understand—or wished to, for that matter—no longer made her cringe. Considering the horrors she continued to unearth, perhaps getting used to the likes of Yharnam wasn’t a desirable notion.

But for now, she didn’t worry about fighting or escaping another horrific death, even if the latter didn’t matter. A sense of calm washed over her and she released a sigh she did not know she held.

All of that vanished when the hint of a shadow darted by her from the corner of her eye.

She hissed in air, whipped around, and unsheathed her Holy Blade. Wide eyes scouted frantically as she gripped the long sword harder, albeit with a touch of a tremble. Nothing stood before her.

_Another ghost,_ she kept to herself, yet it did little to ease her conscious. _Was it... are you still following me, brother?_

It wasn’t the first time she swore she saw him in passing. Only hints of him appeared, which she pieced together over time: his heavy cloak, his boots, his sandy hair, his glasses, and his height. Surely it _had_ to be him. She tracked him all the way here—to Yharnam. Could he see her? Did he know she was here, looking for him?

Or was it another trick of the light, like the abominations she swore bestrode the buildings or the single child crying in the distance?

Swallowing hard, Helvetica trod down the stairs and into the tomb proper. Maybe there had been a time when the gravestones weren’t crumbling and the flowers weren’t wilted. Jacques used to take her to the graveyard back when they were kids. She brought flowers with her—lilies, she thought they were—and hoped her mother liked them. And she asked Jacques many questions, all about their mother and what she was like and if she was kind and loving. And it wasn’t until Helvetica ran away from her house in search of her brother, the only thing close to family that she knew, that she understood it was never _their_ mother, but _hers_. But she was dead, as was the asshole parading as her father, though perhaps she could salvage Jacques.

She paused in front of a tombstone, one of the few still legible. Hopefully whoever lied beneath was long dead before whatever plague doomed Yharnam.

_At least they could die,_ Helvetica thought, using the tip of her sword to clear the moss and weeds in front of the engraved words, _and stay dead._ She scoffed. _And here I thought I_ _’d never dream of death in such a way. There’s nothing romantic about coming back to life to meet your nightmares all over again._

Eileen had mentioned something about that—the Dream and being free from it. Nothing more than a fantasy in Helvetica’s eyes, but perhaps it was, in fact, possible.

Another shadow glinted from her blind spot. She sighed and tossed her head in its general direction. Her breath caught in her throat as a tangible figure charged forward.

A saw cleaver lodged into her left shoulder before she could parry. Helvetica shrieked, the crude metal stuttering as it dragged out of her. Hysterically gulping down air, she tried not to clutch onto the wound. She needed her wits about her and her blade ready. Another Hunter, from the looks of it, confronted her with an outfit as blood-soaked and threadbare as her own and a trick weapon and pistol to match. Helvetica pawed for her pistol as the other fired. This time, she jumped away and brandished her blade; she wasn’t going to be caught off guard again.

The two circled one another, wild eyes sizing up the other. When her foe darted, she matched the action in both movement and finesse. Firearms were never her expertise, though the shots fired startled her target enough to get them into position. And when they rolled toward her, Helvetica lunged forward to sink her sword deep into the bastard’s torso.

_Just one more strike,_ she thought while desperately trying to wet her blade with blood again. Lacking the sheer momentum her first few swings possessed, she set herself up for failure. The saw cleaver chewed into her sides. Boiling agony seared her from the inside out. Helvetica stumbled backwards and released a guttural cry. A gunshot split through the air as the ammo lodged into her gut point blank.

Blood flooded her mouth and suffocated her until she coughed out mouthfuls. Staggering with blurred vision, she wheezed and pawed at her belt pouches. Blood Vials spilled to the ground, but she caught one. It was all she needed. A flick of her wrist prepared the needle and another slammed it into her thigh. She growled through a clenched jaw, eyes piercing the one who continued to pursue her. A bout of rejuvenation washed over Helvetica, though it didn’t slow her foe from knocking her back with an impressive swing. What semblance of life she had recovered was gone and then some.

_Guess it_ _’s back to the Dream,_ she mused with a low chuckle. She never thought death would become banal. Of all the times she wished for a sense of normalcy, dying never fit into the equation, but she tasted it far too many times than she wished to keep track of. And yet it didn’t dull the burning pain setting her aflame or the endless hysteria or the dread of knowing that her life would never matter in the end. Her only wish now was that maybe she wouldn’t wake up. Maybe—fucking _finally_ —she’d stay dead.

Dropping to her knees, she awaited the Hunter’s killing blow, doubting the idiot would demonstrate a shred of mercy. She swore she heard the Hunter chuckle. The saw cleaver transformed, gears and latches grinding into place. The Hunter displayed no sense of urgency while charging up one last blow to claim Helvetica’s life. She narrowed her bright eyes onto the other and snarled, despite trembling and drooling blood.

Helvetica never saw the shadow moving from the back. As quickly as her opponent targeted her, another form blurred into view and slammed them to the ground.

“Found you, bastard.”

That voice. She _knew_ that voice. Smooth, yet raspy, demonstrating years of experience and misery. Helvetica grew attached to that voice since the moment she met her. Now it not only soothed her, it compelled Helvetica to rise to her damned feet to help finish the job she agreed to aid in.

Cloaked in jet black feathers which reflected the moonlight, Eileen hovered over the Hunter who recovered from the attack. “Still alive, hmm?” She chuckled and twirled her Blade of Mercy about. “Suppose it’s best I not think you’d die easy.”

The other Hunter never responded, at least not coherently—growls and mutters at best. No different from the beasts which roamed the streets of Yharnam.

Eileen tilted her head. “No, you’ll die like the dog you are, Henryk.”

Both possessed lightning speed as they charged for one another. Helvetica couldn’t keep track of the flurry of attacks, though there was no mistaking the saw cleaver striking her mentor. She didn’t expect Eileen to falter. No, she had to win. Or else this would have all been for naught.

Sheer willpower kept Helvetica standing afoot. She sheathed the Holy Blade while treading lightly towards to duel. Her shallow breaths vibrated in her ears, only to be overpowered by her own roar as she flourished her transformed trick weapon to cut down Henryk.

He spun around too late, the greatsword carving into him far worse than his saw cleaver ever had. Blood soaked his mask, though those crazed eyes locked onto hers.

_Die already, you fucking beast._

His feet cemented into the ground. Helvetica retracted her weapon, too exhausted to follow up with another attack. He pointed his pistol between her eyes. She didn’t blame him.

She thought she saw Eileen dart in from behind, but she also thought she saw ghosts of her brother littered about Yharnam. It made no difference. Jacques never saved her in the end. She doubted Eileen would bother.

 

* * *

 

A gentle breeze smoothed over Helvetica’s face. Through heavy eyelids, she spied upon thick clouds rolling in the night sky. The moon hadn’t moved. Her breaths snagged in her throat, along with the heavy scent of blood and gore.

The thought slammed into her gut: _This isn_ _’t the Dream._

She jolted up to sitting, or tried to. Pain crippled and forced her to resume lying supine with a groan. A chuckle lingered on the wind and a hand patted her shoulder—her good one.

“Still got some fight to you, yeah?”

Definitely not the Dream. Last she knew, the Doll didn’t sound a damn thing like Eileen.

Helvetica tilted her head back, then froze.

The woman she befriended always donned her plague doctor’s mask, perhaps to blot out the stench living in Yharnam. She had cast it elsewhere, revealing a worn, yet captivating face. Old scars lived alongside wrinkles as curls of silver and black were held captive in a low ponytail. Helvetica found Eileen’s complexion similar to her own, simply darker, but it was those deep, rich eyes which captivated her. Again Helvetica’s breath skipped.

Eileen looked elsewhere, perhaps inspecting a wound or merely staring into space. “Was a tough fight back there. Could’ve handled it myself.” Now she locked eyes with Helvetica. “Didn’t need _you_ jumping into it.”

“For what it’s worth,” Helvetica mustered out, “ _he_ attacked me first.”

Eileen rolled her eyes. “Typical. It’s a good thing I found you when I did. Henryk would have made short work of you.”

_Thanks for reminding me._ “He still left his mark.”

“He won’t anymore.” Those lovely eyes averted. “Left _my_ mark on him. That is, after you left yours.”

“He’s dead?”

“Quite.”

“Are you certain?”

Eileen quirked an eyebrow. “After the stunt _you_ pulled on him from behind? Where did you learn to wield a sword like that, girl? I know full grown men who can’t split wood properly, let alone butcher a beast with a greatsword.”

Helvetica’s eyes glazed over. An ax resided in her hands once and she, too, wielded it as if to chop wood. Blood coated the blade. And the floor boards. And the walls. And her dress she swore to never wear again. And the body chopped into a pulp that had once claimed to be her father.

“Hel?”

The voice snapped her back and anchored her in the moment. Her heart slowed down and the tremble in her hands subsided. Eileen gazed upon her with a softness which was absent in her voice. Though it was there in the way she smoothed black locks out of Helvetica’s face and caressed her cheek.

“Still in shock, hmm?” Eileen rummaged through a nearby pack. “You did take quite the beating. For a twig like you, you don’t snap easily.” Another chuckle. Helvetica tried to smile, yet coughed instead. “Hey, easy now, girl. I patched up what wounds I could, but I don’t work magic. Not anymore.” She held a Blood Vial up into the moonlight, the sanguine contents gleaming. “Already gave you a couple, but hopefully this does the trick.”

Barely finishing the sentence, Eileen drove the needle into Helvetica’s thigh. She hissed through the initial pain, but welcomed the flood of warmth. Her breaths steadied as her heart thrummed with newfound life.

“There.” Eileen tossed the empty vial aside. “Feel better?”

Helvetica hummed. “Yeah.”

“Still, you should rest. Fighting another Hunter can take a lot out of you. Not exactly like fighting a beast, even if that bastard was turning into one, no doubt.”

“I can’t even tell the difference anymore.”

The laugh bursting from Eileen’s aged lips chilled Helvetica, though the smile which followed left her heart skipping a beat. “You will. In time, that is.”

“Can you?”

“Comes with the territory,” Eileen said with a hint of something. Sadness? Regret? Or was she just as numb as Helvetica was becoming to the life that was forced upon them?

“But he’s gone, right?”

When Eileen gestured to the side, Helvetica peered over to find the corpse of Henryk off in the distance. Crows had already circled his body to pick at the remains before the flesh rotted.

That could have been her. Or Eileen. And yet they were victorious and continued to persevere.

“You did good, girl.”

Blinking, Helvetica stared up to Eileen. She smirked back, one hand stroking over Helvetica’s arm while Helvetica rested in Eileen’s lap.

“You... think so?” Helvetica swallowed and awaited for the illusion to shatter.

“Have you gone deaf, as well?” Eileen snickered and shook her head. “Yes, you did. Thought you were dead for sure, truth be told. Met plenty of Hunters who swore to assist me, but the role as the Hunter of Hunters isn’t cut out for everyone. Have to end up killing half of them. And here I thought some stick stumbling in new threads was going to die before even getting this far, leaving me with one less dog to take care off.” Bare, callused fingertips grazed over Helvetica’s bruised cheek. “Think you might be just the one I’ve been looking for all this time.”

Helvetica prayed whatever heat simmered in her face was a symptom from the Blood Vials.

A part of her wished to confess to Eileen that she had longed for something like this herself, albeit unlike what Eileen sought. Through all the isolation and neglect and abandon, Helvetica yearned for a semblance of what many called home. And not a house; she learned to hate that false sense of comfort years ago. Jacques once told her there was a difference between a house and a home. She was a child then, too young to comprehend the nuances, but when she left the blood-coated shack behind in search for him, she understood. From town to town, she found nothing but lies parading as hospitality and compassion. More blood fell in her wake. She ceased to care. Perhaps that was why she was chosen, even if she had no recollection of seeing a glimpse of a road sign for Yharnam.

She killed to stay alive. She killed for people mistook her lack of conventional femininity as a joke. She killed when she uttered Jacques’ name in hopes to rejoin with the only thing she regarded as home.

The ghosts haunting her had been a clue since she first awoke from the Hunter’s Dream. She would never find Jacques. Not in Yharnam, not anywhere. Now if only her mind would stop playing tricks to make her believe otherwise.

All of that floated away. What remained was the moonlight hovering above and washing Eileen’s features with cool light, that hand caressing her cheek, and those eyes looking at her as if she mattered for once.

“You truly think that?” Helvetica asked, fearing her hesitation played against her.

“I don’t speak to fill empty air with my idle thoughts, Hel.” Her palm settled in and cup Helvetica’s cheek. “You can trust that my word is good as done.”

A small laugh rang through Helvetica. “I hope I don’t disappoint you, then.”

“You haven’t and I doubt you won’t. All you’ve done is worry me. Didn’t think I got here in time to help you.”

_You... wanted to save me._ Helvetica licked her cracked lips, though it did little to ease the rapid beats of her heart. _You want me to live, to strive._

This was home. Far from what she pictured, considering it didn’t involve lying on the ground, caked in blood, sweat, and grime, and somehow escaping death, but there was someone who gave a shit if she lived or not. She prayed the sentiment was mutual, that this too brought peace within Eileen.

“Hopefully it wasn’t much trouble patching me up,” Helvetica ended up saying.

Eileen twitched her lips and drummed her fingers. “I’ve tended to wounds before, especially those beyond the help of Blood Vials. It’s the least of my worries.”

“Did you, um....” Blush surely warmed her face as she averted her gaze. The weight of several articles of clothing was gone and she only noticed now.  “My jacket. My hat—”

“Oh, stop fussing. They’re here. Can’t exactly sew up an open wound with all that in the way.”

At least Helvetica had been passed out during that exchange. Guilt twinged in her stomach when she imagined the alternative. Or if she needed to rid Eileen of her layers to tend to a wound.

_Stop. Just... stop._

“Are you ill?”

“W-what?”

“Your face is red. Could be a fever?”

“I-I’m fine.” Helvetica forced herself to seated and ignored the partially numbed pain poking at her from all over. “Nothing... to worry about.” Clutching her gut, she twisted to face Eileen. “Thanks to you, of course.”

Eileen shrugged, yet smirked. “Hunters are tough to go down. You especially, now I learn.”

“Should... we be staying out here?” Her eyes flicked about, fearing something worse than Henryk prowled in the shadows. Her brief nightmares in between death and the Hunter’s Dream illustrated plenty and Helvetica prayed none lived in Yharnam.

“Where else, might I ask, do you suggest we stay?”

She held her breath and eyed Eileen, who sat with an unflappable composure. “The Cathedral Ward, perhaps,” Helvetica suggested.

And yet Eileen rolled her eyes. “Don’t trust that place if my life depended on it. A building isn’t going to protect anyone from the plight infecting this place, holy or not. And I certainly wasn’t going to carry you _and_ that heavy thing—” Her eyes settled onto the Holy Blade, lying neatly beside Helvetica’s folded jacket. “—on up to the main level of the Cathedral Ward. You could have bled out in that time.”

Perhaps Eileen had a point, but Helvetica’s nerves said otherwise. She kept scouting the premise, doubting every shadow and tree branch dancing in the subtle wind. All the while, Eileen chuckled.

“Come here, Hel.”

And when she didn’t budge, Eileen shifted to sweep Helvetica up in her arms. A mixture of unfamiliar flora and spices wafted about Eileen. It was the first pleasant aroma in Yharnam and Helvetica inhaled that scent as if her life depended upon it. She leaned into the woman, who stroked her back and cradled the mess of black, ratty hair loosening from its ponytail.

“Even Hunters need rest from the Hunt,” Eileen murmured in that voice which brought pleasant chills down to Helvetica’s toes. “A bit hard when the fear of dying is everywhere. And wouldn’t it be nice to close your eyes and not return to the Hunter’s Dream for once?”

As if a spell was cast over her, Helvetica shut her eyes and nodded. Blood Vials only helped so much; the rest of her recovery was up to her.

“You’ve done well, for now, Hel,” Eileen continued as she eased her back into her lap. “Take it easy and don’t worry. I’ll look out you.”

Nuzzled into Eileen’s lap, she tried to memorize the gentle strokes of that hand smoothing over her messy hair. Helvetica needed a bath more than a nap, though only the latter was feasible. At least she could do so beside Eileen, bask in a sensation she was never given the luxury to experience, let alone enjoy. The scent soaked in Eileen and their surroundings brought her thoughts back to her mother’s grave, but instead of grief swelling inside, a lovely glow she couldn’t place inundated her. She smiled and wondered if Eileen noticed.

 

* * *

 

Rain drenched and pounded the earth. Stone and trees alike fell victim to the onslaught of the storm. A distinct scent filled the air combined with the crisp chill of autumn.

No one stood in the graveyard but the two children, one at least eight years older than the little one clutching her lilies. He held an umbrella while the girl swayed about and stared at the slab of stone. Mud caked onto their shoes. The rain-slicked surface blurred the engravings there.

“Where did she go?” the young child asked the older one.

Despite clutching the umbrella, the rain soaked into one side of his body while she stayed mostly dry. He never flinched at any of it. “Away,” he said, his voice like the gentle rain showers in spring.

“But... will she come back?”

“I’m afraid not.”

The girl hesitated and hugged the flowers tight to her chest. Then she peered up with her purple eyes. “Why not?”

Helvetica looked back into those eyes. The boy was gone. No umbrella shielded either of them from the rain.

Then the girl vanished, like she was never there to begin with. Same with the rain. Lilies lied in the mud as remnants of the storm dripped from leaves and Helvetica’s hat.

Once more she eyed the tombstone, dropping to her knees for a better look. She squinted and reached out to touch it.

“Hel?”

Her breath caught in her throat. Jolting upright, she spun around to find someone taller than her—a feat in of itself—donning black church garb and wielding blades no different from Eileen the Crow’s.

But it was the sandy hair and green eyes hiding behind spectacles that left her speechless.

His brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

A million thoughts competed to shine at the front of her brain and not a breath left her.

He blinked and hunched over. “Hel?”

She no longer stood, instead sprawled out on her back as he hovered above. The sky bled an awful, unnatural color behind him. Even the vibrant moon loomed there bigger than she had ever witnessed it before.

Again he called out to her, extending a hand. It began to rain again, though the scent reminded Helvetica of nothing the seasons brought. She coughed at the foul stench as blood drenched the premise.

Her heart thrummed out of control. Or was it that bell she had once heard before? Eyes set back above, her stomach turned over as one of those _things_ perched upon the buildings of Yharnam hovered over her and inched closer.

She intended to scream with every fiber of her being, but the sound was but a whisper overwhelmed by the pounding rain, a ringing in her ear, and the distant shriek of a newborn baby.

 

* * *

 

A cold sweat slicked over Helvetica as she lurched upright. Her breath eluded her, as did her surroundings. Unsure of what was real anymore, she grasped for anything she deemed familiar. The night sky had yet to change, as did the Tomb of Oedon. The pain faded from her body, even when she pawed her stomach and shoulder.

But Eileen had been there. At least she thought so. Lying back and using the woman’s thighs as a pillow while the sound of her voice and touch of her caress lulled Helvetica to sleep. _Surely I didn_ _’t make that up, too._

To the side, the woman in question sat in the sweep distance with her back to Helvetica. Perhaps tending to Henryk’s corpse finally. Eileen had spoken of burials differing from what folk were used to, something about the skies and thus the meaning behind her title as the Crow. Unsure if she was intruding on some sacred ritual, Helvetica averted her eyes and gasped.

The shadows twitched in the distance. Merely a trick of the light as it inched closer, flat along the ground. Helvetica couldn’t place where she had seen one before until it flanked Eileen and stood upon its hind legs, stretching out until its neck’s length matched that of its torso.

Beasts of this type weren’t plentiful on this side of Yharnam, but Helvetica didn’t fret over the details. Its glowing, red eyes narrowed onto its target as its jaw hinged open.

“Eileen!” Helvetica screamed.

Finally, she snapped up from whatever trance she was lost in. By then, the beast had reeled its arm back. Helvetica scrambled to her feet and frantically sought out her Holy Blade. A horrific crunch of flesh and bone snapped through the area. Helvetica gasped and jerked her head up as Eileen soared through the air and crashed into a tombstone.

Feeble hands found her weapon. Helvetica jumped to standing and charged. She never bothered to release it from its sheath; she didn’t need to. The beast focused on Eileen. Gritting her teeth, Helvetica barely contained her rage as she found an opening.

The greatsword sliced into the beast’s back before it realized more than one prey was present. The _sound_ it made brought unwanted shudders throughout Helvetica, but adrenaline fueled her to stand tall. She should have jumped away. A fire roared within that said otherwise. With what stamina she could burn, she swung her Holy Blade once more into the creature’s side, content with the grind of bone and organs. After a breath, the beast’s fist slammed into her chest.

Her back connected with the ground and a pain splintered and rattled her head. But she still clutched to her trick weapon. _Get back up,_ she demanded of herself. A curse shot out past her lips as she struggled to do so much as that. The beast had its sights on her now. _Fine. Kill me. See what I fucking care. I_ _’ll come back and find you and end your pathetic life. Just don’t fucking lay a damn finger on her._

Helvetica sank the tip of her greatsword into the ground to stabilize herself back on her feet. It was then she looked past the beast and found Eileen standing, weapons in hand, and dashed forward with a vengeance.

This time when its unnatural cry filled the air, Helvetica smirked. Eileen spun with her blades and landed gracefully. Splatters of blood followed, coloring both the ground and her feathered cloak. She donned her plague mask and hat again, perhaps for the best and far more prepared than Helvetica was for the fight. Her Hunter’s garb remained folded and untouched, but it didn’t matter. Not now.

Releasing the long sword from its sheath, Helvetica charged again. So did Eileen. The beast roared and reared back with dagger-like claws ready to sink into warm flesh. It swiped across. So did both Hunters.

As Helvetica skidded across the ground, she pivoted to eye the damn filth. It staggered, released a pained groan, then collapsed. Helvetica heaved out a sigh while a familiar chime rang in her ear—mere echoes of what had once lived. She would consult the Doll about it another time. For now, she pushed loose strands of hair out of her face and looked over her shoulder.

“Not too shabby, hmm—”

Eileen was still alive and breathing, but that wasn’t what cut Helvetica’s words short. Eileen ripped her mask and hat off, chucking both in an aimless direction. Blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. She limped while marching towards her. Helvetica’s eyes widened, searching for the right words. Eileen needed attention now; she was hurt. Hopefully not bleeding out. Though Helvetica bit her tongue as she witnessed the fire consuming Eileen’s eyes. She grasped the front of Helvetica’s shirt. She dragged her backwards until she slammed her into a metal fence which creaked against the abrupt weight. Helvetica trembled, stuttering out half-formed apologies.

_This is it. I fucked up. Might as well die at the hands of the Hunter of Hunters._

Blinking back the tears, Helvetica gasped, only to be deprived of air as Eileen’s mouth crushed against hers.

This was a dream. Surely she had died and now imagined this, like everything else. All of it wasn’t real: the comforting scent, the heat, the racing blood, the sweat-slicked skin.

Teeth sunk into her lip and shook Helvetica out of reverie. Or was it shock? A chuckle tickled her lips as she fluttered her eyes and focused on the sight before her. Eileen pinned her to the gate, still gripping her shirt and grinning all the while. Closer up, that fire in Eileen’s eyes wasn’t wrath; it mirrored more of what lingered within Helvetica, yet didn’t hesitate to flourish.

“Didn’t take you to be _this_ shy,” Eileen purred, nuzzling into her face, lips brushing over hers.

Her breath hitched. “W-what?”

Another chuckle erupted from Eileen. “Never been with a woman, hmm?”

Helvetica licked her lips and swallowed hard, but none of it solved the anxiety fluttering within. “Girls, yes. Of course. But... a _woman_? Such as yourself?”

She never bothered asking Eileen how old she was, but the jaded quality soaked in her tongue paired with the wrinkles and wisps of silver hair made it apparent. Had they met anywhere _normal_ , maybe in a tavern or at the marketplace—and most definitely _not here_ —Helvetica doubted she’d ever muster the strength to approach someone so fierce and striking and admirable; she feared she’d mar the very air Eileen breathed.

Averting her gaze, Helvetica breathed out her response. “Only in dreams. Nothing more.”

Gloved fingers curled beneath Helvetica’s chin and returned her face to center. She hitched her breath, gazing upon Eileen’s smirking lips and mischievous eyes.

“Trust me, Hel,” she groaned, stepping into her, “this sure as fuck is no dream.”

Not another word escaped either of them. Both held their breath until they found one another’s lips and sought to suffocate each other. Eileen’s body crushed against Helvetica’s, still clutching onto her shirt with one hand. Helvetica gasped into her and drank in the taste of her lips and tongue. She welcomed every advance with a coo.

A small voice echoed in her head to stop; Eileen was injured and needed to be tended to. But Eileen pursued Helvetica with the same ferocity she displayed in battle. It wasn’t a feather bed or a candlelit night in the heat of summer. Helvetica didn’t want that, anyways. She favored the steel biting into her back and the persistent weight crushing her and those decadent lips locking with hers and the sheer power backing every one of Eileen’s motions. Helvetica fell victim to the onslaught and would only be disappointed if Eileen thought so much as to stop for a second.

When she did break from that hard kiss, blood staining Helvetica’s lips, Eileen ripped her shirt. The fabric surrendered, several buttons popping free. It draped from Helvetica’s shoulder, displaying her small, yet pert breasts. She hissed and cried out as Eileen bit at her neck and teased her collar bone. Desperate to return the favor, Helvetica fussed with the feathered cloak while Eileen trailed down to take a hardened nipple into her mouth.

A delectable tremble overcame her entire body. Even when Helvetica found the ties to the cloak, Eileen’s tongue and teeth made it impossible to focus. The damn thing fell from her shoulders in time, revealing a navy blue attire no different from what Helvetica wore. She wished to tear it off, as well. Perhaps once this was all out of their systems, Helvetica could tend to the wound on Eileen’s side which bled into her shirt.

All of that vanished as Eileen tugged on a nipple with her teeth. Helvetica arched her back and clawed into Eileen’s head and shoulders. She said something with a chuckle. Catching her breath, Helvetica spied Eileen meticulously tugging off a glove with her teeth while her other hand loosened the front of Helvetica’s pants.

With her bare fingers free, Eileen slipped two digits past Helvetica’s lips. She whimpered at first, then slicked her tongue along them as they pumped in and out. A violent cough brought the moment to an end. Blood spurted forth and speckled along Eileen’s cheek as she released her fingers.

After a few deep breaths, Helvetica wiped her mouth. “Sorry.... Guess that filthy beast hit me harder than I—”

A needle sunk into her thigh. A whimper morphed into a moan past Helvetica’s lips. Eileen held the Blood Vial in place. With the contents emptied and discarded, Helvetica swore something else gushed forward along with the rejuvenation. The heat exploded between her thighs, all of her muscles twitched, and her heart raced violently in her ears. She never experienced such a high before.

“Better?” Eileen asked, though she left no room for Helvetica to answer. Her lips locked with hers, not caring if blood lingered there. Tongues and moans alike mixed.

It all distracted Helvetica from the bare hand trailing down her stomach and finding a home beneath her pants.

Eileen merely kissed her and Helvetica’s body burned. Now her fingers ghosted over a swollen clit and Helvetica’s arousal intensified to an ache she never knew before. Eileen didn’t need to moisten her fingers along Helvetica’s tongue; she was beyond ready with that kiss alone. So she held her breath and drowned herself with Eileen’s ardent kisses and waited for those fingers to stop teasing.

Her moans flooded the air once Eileen stroked over her with a more stable rhythm. Struggling to stand, Helvetica clung onto the woman. In return, Eileen stabilized her with a firm grip at her throat to pin her further into the gate. All Helvetica could do was let Eileen used her body. Like fuck she was going to complain for a second.

Yet she still twitched each time Eileen changed her pacing or dared to thrust those skilled fingers deep inside. Her nails dared to draw body against Eileen as she gasped into her grinning lips. Another stroke and Helvetica jerked her leg forward, managing to slip it between Eileen’s legs.

All stopped as Eileen hissed and wobbled. Helvetica feared to have brought harm upon the woman, though when an enticing groan eased out of her, all there was to do was blush.

Eileen rocked her hips into that thigh now perfectly positioned against her. Helvetica watched as the woman found her own form of pleasure and somehow balanced it with returning the favor. They lost themselves in each other, trying desperately to taste something that would numb the pain and ease the dread that each passing day meant nothing in the stillness of eternal night.

And they found it in each other. It was in Eileen’s attentive hands, for Helvetica. Tremors spread over her in waves as she clawed at the one bestowing her with such bliss. She cried her name, not caring if they garnered the attention of every beast in the damn city. She shook and moaned and smiled. Worn lips kissed her, the action soft and drawn out.

When her feet gave out, Eileen was there to sweep her off and lie her back onto the ground. The heat of Eileen’s breath washed over her neck. She nudged Helvetica to at least bend her knee a little. Just enough to straddle and join her to bask in that bliss.

With what energy was left in her, Helvetica tugged Eileen down to taste her lips again. It was a slower, lazier kiss, though the passion remained. She cradled Eileen against her, urging her to grind against her leg harder, faster. She finally tugged a few buttons free from that shirt of hers and snaked a hand inside to cup her full breast. Having Eileen gasp and cry into her each time she pinched a nipple brought a sly smile to Helvetica’s lips.

Though it didn’t compare to watching the woman lose herself to that blissful haze. The contents of the Blood Vial still thrummed in Helvetica and she hoped it felt no different for Eileen. The moonlight glistened along her sweat-soaked skin and caught in her dark eyes. Every quiver, every gasp was on display. Helvetica felt it in her palm pressed along Eileen’s stomach. All the dirt and blood didn’t deter from the beauty sitting above her.

And when exhaustion got the best of them, they collapsed next to one another. Together they drank in sticky air, staring into each other’s eyes. The muscles in her body begged for rest, but Helvetica wished to stay awake. As Eileen’s breaths eased down and her eyes grew heavy, Helvetica drew her into a tight embrace, kissing her forehead.

“Better?” Helvetica asked.

There was a chuckle as Eileen nuzzled into her neck. “Much better.”

 

* * *

 

Helvetica didn’t expect to drift off, though she welcomed the dreamless sleep for the first time in who knew how long. Rustling on the ground, she pried those sleepy eyes open. She stretched and yawn, noticing the makeshift blanket draped over her when she rolled to her back. Sitting up to examine the item, she smiled upon recognizing the black feathers strung about to make a cloak.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Not far off stood Eileen, who looked stunning without her cloak and mask, perching on a slab of stone in her simple pants and shirt. Helvetica could have stared all night if time allowed for it, but Eileen jumped to the ground—free of any visible limp or pain, thankfully—and thus prompted Helvetica to join her.

“I wasn’t out for too long, was I?” She extended the cloak back to Eileen.

With a thankful bow, Eileen swung the cloak back onto her shoulders and resembled the silhouette Helvetica knew too well. “Not long. Seemed like we both needed a break.”

“Suppose so.” She tilted her head to examine Eileen’s side. “Are you... alright after that attack?”

Eileen offered a smirk. “I’ve seen worse.” She walked past Helvetica. “I’m more impressed with how you held up.”

“Only doing my best.”

“Well, your best isn’t anything to laugh over.” Eileen bent down to scoop up the jacket and hat Helvetica abandoned not far away. “Quite happy to call you my apprentice of sorts.”

Helvetica arched an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“It’s what most masters call it when they take a novice under their wing.” But she paused, cocked her head, and bit back a grin. “Unless you’re referring to something else.”

“I... well, is it....” She noticed her shirt still undone and Eileen’s eyes gazing at her breasts. “Uh, protocol,” she rushed out, buttoning up her shirt, “I guess, for a master to have a—”

Eileen’s cackle threw Helvetica off guard, but it was the smile that eased her. “Don’t get too caught up on labels, Hel. We already have enough to deal with. Might as well make the most of it, hmm?” She offered the jacket and hat to Helvetica. “While we can, anyways. Anything to ease the tension and pain is worthwhile in my book.”

She thanked Eileen and held her garments close. “So should I think nothing of it?”

“Is that what _you_ wish to do?”

“N-no, I—”

“Then it _isn_ _’t_ nothing. Simple as that. Still....” Eileen fastened the mask back to her face. “We have a job to do and a Hunt to get through. Far greater matters are on the table and as far as I’m concerned, we should be more worried about surviving this night than scheduling a repeat performance.”

Helvetica’s features fell. “Right.” She slipped her jacket back on and adjusted her hat. “I can only hope that... maybe when this is all over, then we can worry about other things.”

Eileen stood before her, cloaked in her Crowfeather garb and void of whatever emotions riddled her face. Helvetica wished to remove it just to see her smirk again or catch a whiff of the luxurious scent soaked in her pores.

“Perhaps,” Eileen purred. “I wouldn’t be opposed. For now... suppose you’ve given me one more thing to fight for. And Hel?”

Her back stiffened. “Yes?”

“Hang in there for me. I’d hate to have to kill another apprentice of mine.”

She couldn’t stop nodding. “I won’t disappoint you, Eileen.”

Maybe she smiled under that mask. Maybe she didn’t. She did, however, pause in that moment. “I know you won’t,” she finally spoke, her voice rich with a warmth Helvetica wanted to wrap herself up in.

With a graceful pivot, Eileen walked away from Helvetica. A gust of wind broke through the tomb and caught both their jacket and cloak. As Eileen’s feathers lifted and danced, hints of her blades at her hips glimmered. Helvetica focused on them, lost in thought. Her mind raced and her heart skipped a beat.

Then she broke into a sprint. “Eileen!”

Her name mixed with Helvetica’s desperate breath brought Eileen to a standstill. This time, she said nothing and looked upon her with the dead gaze within the mask as she waited.

“You’ve had students before me, yes?” Helvetica inhaled and steadied her thoughts. “Then surely you’ve seen other Hunters aside from myself or those you’ve known for years?” Eileen said nothing and thus Helvetica continued. “Then surely you’ve seen other outsiders wander into Yharnam.”

“I might have,” Eileen responded slowly.

“You see... I might not be able to recall how I came across Yharnam, but I do know _why_ I’m here.” She swore Eileen’s body shift slightly to face her. “I’m looking for someone—my brother, Jacques.”

The wind shifted by them as the silence expanded.

“He’s....” Helvetica sighed and mentally cursed herself. “He’s taller than me. And older. With more meat on his bones and fair-skinned and blond hair with glasses.”

She held her breath, like she always did. This time, Eileen visibly tilted her head.

“You say that’s your _brother_?” Eileen questioned, almost cautious, yet confused.

And still, it was the kindest response Helvetica had heard amongst the derogatory remarks and curses slung in her direction over the matter.

“The closest thing I have to one, anyways,” she murmured, but the wind didn’t overpower her. “He’s... the closest thing I have to home.”

“And where’s home for you, Hel?”

Her eyes glossed over and stared past Eileen. All she recalled were fragments of memories that made even less sense stitched together. But she remembered Jacques looking out for her and expressing compassion when no one else did in that village. Or she thought it was a village. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was all in her head now. Like everything else.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, lowering her head.

She didn’t notice the boots along the ground inching closer or the heavy hands sinking into her shoulders. It was when Eileen removed her mask and the scent of dried flowers and spices filled her nostrils that Helvetica perked back to life.

Their noses brushed past one another and Helvetica held her breath.

“I’m afraid I can’t say I know this Jacques of yours,” Eileen explained, a soft quality threaded through her words, “but Yharnam is no stranger to outsiders wandering in. If I find someone of that descriptor, I’ll be sure to track you down.”

“You will?” Helvetica blinked, not knowing the tears which swelled there. “But how?”

Eileen rested her forehead upon hers. “I have my ways.”

And she kissed away the tears along with sealing her lips over Helvetica’s until they gently broke away to replenish their lungs.

“That smell,” Helvetica whispered. “What is it?”

Eileen tilted her head. “Frangipanis, primrose, jasmine, cinnamon, ginger, turmeric, cumin, saffron... perhaps a few others. It’s been a while since I’ve thought about it. Why do you ask?”

Helvetica barely cracked a smile. “It smells like home.”

But she had never heard of such spices or seen those flowers in the wild before. Yet with each inhale, Eileen’s scent brought a calm over Helvetica that nothing else ever had in quite some time.

None of it needed to be explained; Eileen merely smiled. “You take care of yourself, Hel. Stay strong and look alive. I don’t want to be rescuing you from death again next time we cross paths.”

That managed to bring forth a giggle from Helvetica while Eileen kissed her cheek. “I promise you it won’t happen. I’ll be stronger next time. For you.”

Eileen fastened the mask back on. “Then I look forward to it.” She shrugged her cloak and the feathers ruffled, turning away to walk off.

With a bow, Helvetica dashed back to retrieve her Holy Blade to strap onto her back. When she turned to see Eileen, the woman had already vanished. The wind played with Helvetica’s mangled ponytail and reminded her to pull her mask back up to block the foul stench still wafting through the city.

She headed back for the Cathedral Ward, wary of everything in her path in case another Hunter or beast opted to surprise her. Not even a distant whisper teased her sanity. Upon reaching the entrance back where she came from, she paused and gazed over Yharnam. Any other time and it would be a lovely sight to behold. A Hunter must hunt was what Eileen told her back when they met. And she would. For Yharnam. For Jacques. For Eileen. For herself.

But as endless clouds rolled by in the night sky, the moon never crawled an inch.

**Author's Note:**

> For those curious, my face headcanons for these two are [Pooja Mor](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/77/3b/a6/773ba62bb63781521132fdbd32f5b2fd.jpg) for Helvetica and Eileen's [badass voice actress](https://68.media.tumblr.com/2fcf0cadd8dde651b8e81184d553e5f0/tumblr_ohxij6SLcR1rwh1zfo1_1280.jpg) for her own.


End file.
